A Legendary Christmas
by DB the Unknown
Summary: Arceus is throwing her once-in-a-century Christmas Party, and all the Legendaries are invited! How will Mew blackmail Mewtwo into attending? What's the perfect gift for Groudon and Kyogre? Will Celebi let them cut down a Christman tree? Find out inside!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Pokemon. If anyone was looking for Christmas present ideas for me, you now know.

Chapter One

The Greatest Gift of All

* * *

The wind blew cold through the Kanto region that early December morn. The snow fell light as feather down, only to drift and compact to the consistency of wet sand. But deep in the Cerulean Caves, the cold went unnoticed. Summer or winter, rain or snow, it was always slightly chilly and damp, like a leaky basement. In those caves, the cold was the least you had to worry about.

There were deep passages, constantly guarded in case some ignorant or foolhardy trainer blundered in. Even the local Champion never went there. He knew that he was not worthy. Within those catacombs dwelled the strongest, most dangerous wild pokemon in the region. The monsters there laughed at any pitiful human that would try to imprison them in tiny balls. Yet they still went through the caverns with a guarded look in their eyes, as if there was some greater power in those caves they too were afraid of.

If some brave or lucky soul made it past these sentinels, there were yet greater trials. Embedded in the walls were swinging blades and spike traps to put Indiana Jones to shame, just waiting to slice, dice and chop anything that came too close. Trip-wires stretched taught, ready to snap. Hidden nozzles would fire jets of flame like a medieval dragon, floors concealed acid pits that would make a James Bond villain proud, and other secret horrors made the cave a death-trap.

At the deepest passage, past the guards and the monsters and the killing devices, there was a passage, blocked off by a boulder too massive to be moved. Carved into the living rock over the doorway was a message, as foreboding as the inscription over the gates of Hell. It said two words and two words only. "Keep Out." Some people would say that the warning was a little late, but anyone who had blundered this far obviously hadn't gotten the message yet anyway.

Within the cavern dwelled the creature. Its large, onion-shaped head balanced upon two tubular necks, its yard-long tail swished behind its purple kangaroo-like legs. It hunched before a lab table, its light bulb fingers clasped around a test tube containing a strange, volatile liquid. To the left sat a computer, its keys telekinetically hitting themselves and making a noise like a tap dancing spider. To the right, a chalkboard was scribbled on by a disembodied piece of chalk, drawing almost arcane symbols like a poltergeist with a Ph. D.

Here dwelled Mewtwo, the Genetic pokemon, toiling with complicated glassware and multicolored liquids like a mad scientist. Which in a way, he was. He labored at his grand works, assured none would interrupt him, that he was completely isolated, utterly…

"Hello? Pizza delivery for a Mr.…Mewtwo?" The clone looked up from his work in obvious irritation, glaring at the sound of tentative knocking coming from his door. With a weary sigh, he carefully put down his vial of chemicals and slouched over to the door.

"I did not order any pizza. I do not even own a _phone_," he said, trying to intimidate the ridiculously persistent prankster that had made it to his cave. He shifted the boulder with his telekinesis. "If you do not want to be ripped limb from limb, I suggest you…" he paused, confused, when he found nobody outside, "…leave?"

His confusion quickly gave way to pride, a smirk crossing his face at the thought of scaring off the punk without even seeing him. Then from behind him came an explosion, and his hopes came crashing down. He spun around to witness the smoke clear, revealing his lab in ruins, his glassware reduced to powder as fine as the snow outside. In the middle of the chaos floated what appeared to be a pink kitten, face blackened with soot like Wile E. Coyote and a goofy grin on his face.

"You know brother," Mew said, seemingly unharmed by the recent fireball, "I can't believe you actually fell for the 'pizza delivery' distraction. You must be losing your touch. By the way, I don't think these two chemicals should mix, they might cause an explosion," he said, his warning coming a little late.

"First of all, I am not your 'brother.' I am your clone, there is a big difference." Mewtwo glared at his counterpart, his voice the eerie calm of someone who's too angry to yell. "Secondly, why are you here, destroying all my things?"

"Very well, I won't call you brother. I was wondering what you were doing here, son." He either didn't notice Mewtwo twitch at being called "son" or didn't care. "I thought that you could use a night on the town, see the sights, and have some fun. It can't be healthy to be cooped up in this cave."

"I am not your son, either." "Can I call you my nephew?" "NO! I have a lot of work to do here, and I would like to not be interrupted by explosions."

"What work? I know for a fact you don't have a sphere of influence like the other Legendaries. You don't have to do anything you don't want to!" Mew ranted. "Does that mean I can ignore you and get back to my work?" "NO!"

"Look Mew," he began, but before he could chew out Mew properly, a knock came from his door for the second time that day, an almost unheard-of occurrence. In his irritation, he roughly flung the boulder to the side, shattering it into shrapnel like a stick of dynamite going off.

The dust cleared, revealing a lone Pidgey, a mail bag slung over one shoulder, shivering in terror. Mewtwo's eyes widened in astonishment. It was understandable for Mew to covertly make it past the local pokemon and his death-traps, but no mere Pidgey should have come this far. The shrapnel from the shattered boulder alone should have killed him. But contrary to all reason, there it stood, shaken of mind but sound in body.

"Um, a, um, l-letter f-f-for, um, Mew?" the tiny, terrified bird stuttered, all the while glancing at the crater Mewtwo had made in the adjacent cave wall.

Upon hearing mention of his name, the pink kitten floated into view, the soot on is face miraculously gone. "Oh, hi Bob, you've got a letter for me?" The Pidgey reached into the bag with his wing and pulled out an envelope, the paper so white it almost hurt to look at.

Mewtwo tried to comprehend what had just transpired. "Who are you? How did you get here?" "Um, I'm Bob, and I'm the m-messenger of L-L-Lady Arceus." "Why would Arceus use a Pidgey as her messenger?" At this, Bob merely shrugged.

While Mewtwo and Bob discussed the odd hiring practices of the Alpha pokemon, Mew opened the letter. His huge blue eyes darted from side to side as he scanned the writing. A smile crept further and further up his face as he read, threatening to make the top of his head fall off. As he finished the letter, he proceeded to whoop for joy, doing summersaults in midair and laughing almost maniacally.

Mewtwo, a person not known for being very jovial, regarded Mew's celebrations like it was some bizarre satanic ritual. "What has Mew so worked up?" In response, Bob the Pidgey reached into the mail bag and pulled out another envelope, identical to Mew's "I-I've already delivered them to, um, the other Legendaries, yours and Mew's are the last," the poor Pidgey stuttered.

Mewtwo tore it open, and began to read the letter, the writing in such complicated calligraphy it might as well have been another language;

_Salutations Mewtwo. _

_You are cordially invited to the Centennial Christmas Party, hosted by Arceus, the Original One. The holiday festivities shall commence at 4 PM on Christmas Eve at the Hall of Origin, in the Sinnoh region. Please R.S.V.P. if you wish to attend. _

_Signed, Arceus, Creator of All Things._

_P.S., as per tradition, you have been randomly selected to be Secret Santa to a fellow Legendary. This year, you are required to bring a gift for Deoxys, the DNA pokemon. _

The Genetic pokemon finished the letter, trying to grasp what he had just learned. He thought carefully. He'd never been invited to a party before, especially by his fellow Legendaries. This was a milestone, a sign of acceptance into their noble pantheon.

"I think I will R.S.V.P. 'No.'" He then crumpled up the letter and casually let it fall on the floor.

Mew saw this spectacle, actually halting in his celebration in shock at his clone's yuletide sacrilege. "WHAT?! But you have to go! It'll be fun!"

"No, it will not. Firstly," he said, counting his arguments on his deformed fingers, "I would have to travel several hundred miles to get to Sinnoh, and that would mean a very long time flying through the cold December sky. Secondly, I would have to be in contact with the other Legendaries, who are unstable at the best of times. Thirdly, I hate shopping. I would find it extremely unpleasant to have to find a present for Deoxys. Fourthly, it would distract me from my work. And finally," he concluded, "if _you_ think the party will be fun, it will almost certainly be a living hell for me."

Mew's head fell, defeated. "Well, if that's how you feel, I guess I can't make you-THINK FAST!" Without warning (except for the "THINK FAST!" of course), Mew pulled a small orange berry from apparently nowhere. With the skill of a Major League baseball pitcher, he chucked the berry into Mewtwo's mouth, hanging open out of pure shock.

Mewtwo grimaced in disgust as he tasted what Mew had clandestinely made him eat. "Eugh, sweet. What did you just throw at me-wait, what are you doing with my computer?"

Indeed, Mew had drifted over to Mewtwo's desktop and was tapping at keys like a four-year-old who'd never seen a computer before. "I'm going to find something here that I can blackmail you with." Mew didn't turn away from the screen even to see the hilarious panicked look Mewtwo had found himself the owner of. "This party is a once in a century event, and I'm not going to let you miss it. You're welcome to try and stop me."

"I will." Mewtwo again took on the air of command he was accustomed to. Parties he was confused by; he was on much surer ground when it came to fights. Without even thinking, a Shadow Ball formed between his hands, primed to incinerate the computer, Mew, and everything else in its path. At least, it was _supposed to. _What it _actually_ did was spontaneously explode in Mewtwo's face, hurling him into a cave wall. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

Bob the Pidgey flinched in terror at the second explosion he'd seen in the last five minutes. He hopped over to the Legendary's comatose form, giving him a poke with his wing. "Why did _that_ happen?"

"Mago berry," Mew responded from the computer desk without looking up. "I had to bring it all the way from Johto. It causes confusion if you don't like sweet food." "So M-Mewtwo ate it, didn't like it, g-got confused, and blew himself up?" "Yep. Pretty clever, huh?" If Mew's hands were not occupied with the keyboard, he would probably pat himself on the back. "Um, will he b-be okay?" "Oh, he'll be fine," Mew said with disturbing nonchalance.

Mew's good mood didn't last long. His fumbling with Mewtwo's computer became more and more erratic as he became irritated with the constant security checks and firewalls. "Well, this is a waste of time," he sighed, stepping back from the desktop, defeated. "He has too many passwords and I'm not a leet enough haxxor."

As his eyes drifted to Mewtwo, he got an idea. An awful idea. Mew got a wonderful, awful idea.

"I think I know how to blackmail Mewtwo into going to the party without his computer. And you're going to help me," he said, pointing at Bob. He flinched away from the finger as if it might go off.

"Wh-What do I have to to do?" "Just use this," Mew chuckled, tossing the pigeon a camera which wasn't there a minute ago. "H-How do you get this stuff?" "I've got a stockpile of junk stashed somewhere. I Teleport in what I need in any given situation. Including…" he said, as a flash of light filled the cavern, "_this!_"

The Pidgey cowered when he saw the horrible thing Mew had summoned forth. The adorable pink kitten stood over Mewtwo's unconscious body, holding the wretched instrument of destruction and grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "My nephew Mewtwo may not be my Secret Santa, but he's about to give me the greatest gift of all; something really, _really_ funny!"

* * *

A.N. What is Mew going to do to Mewtwo? Whatever it is, it'll probably be embarrassing. Oh well, 'tis the season! Read, review, wait eagerly for the next chapter, and be merry!


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

A.N. Thanks for all your reviews of the first chapter. Here's another gift, from me to you.

Chapter Two

Gift of the Magi

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Slateport City, the mercantile capital of the Hoenn region. Traders and seafarers were drawn from all corners of the earth to the warm seaport, itching to hack their wares and strike it rich. Nowhere else in this tropical seaside paradise was this more evident than in the famous Slateport Market.

In this huge building, little more than a glorified warehouse, stood a miniature city of booths and kiosks. Like some Moroccan bazaar, it was a kaleidoscope of color and noise, designed to entice buyers of anything and everything. Voices cried out in a dozen languages, but all talking the international language of business as they bought and sold. Few customers ever left unsatisfied. However, three figures stood in the middle of this marketing maelstrom and were quite annoyed.

"Jeez, why are we even here? I'm terrible at Christmas shopping," grumbled the man with the short red hair. He leaned against the wall in laid-back irritation, his arms crossed across his red leather jacket-covered torso.

"Yeah Ray," said the woman with the long blue hair. Her hands were clenched into fists in the pockets of her cyan hoodie, trying to keep from fidgeting like a bored child. "As much as I hate to agree with Groudy here," she said, gesturing to her redhead comrade, "this is really, really lame."

"Yes, it is lame," said the gentleman with the medium-length green hair, his chartreuse windbreaker crumpled and wrinkled as the look of thoughtful annoyance on his face. "Unfortunately, Arceus requires we bring a gift, and this is the easiest place to get one. Just be thankful that I managed to call in a few favors and get us these human bodies for the occasion. Imagine how much harder this whole business would be if we looked like we normally do."

"Yeah, thanks," Groudon the (currently) redheaded man said sarcastically. "I bet this tiny human body can't even survive being immersed in magma."

"Hey, it's not all bad," Kyogre appealed. "I have hands now, which is actually pretty cool," as she said this, she pulled out her human hands, showing them off like a new toy. "The only thing I'm a little concerned about is the weird hair colors we got. I'm pretty sure people don't look like this. Won't we get noticed?"

Rayquaza surveyed the people around him, the masses displaying hair of ridiculous proportions of weirdness. The humans sported scalps covered in spikes and whorls in colors never seen in nature, displaying more odd genes than those frogs that grow extra legs. "I think we blend in quite nicely."

"Fine, whatever," Groudon grumbled, already tired of the argument and wandering over to a stall selling rubber ducks. "Hey Ky, what do you want for Christmas?"

It took a second for Kyogre to fully comprehend what the Continent pokemon had said. "Wait, _you're_ my Secret Santa?" At this revelation, she smacked herself in the forehead at her counterpart's stupidity. "You're supposed to keep that a secret. It's in the name!"

Groudon heaved a heavy sigh. "Ky, do you really trust me to get you something you'd like without your input?" "No, actually," she grudgingly admitted, pained to admit Groudon had a point. "I didn't think so," Groudon said, a hint of accusation in his voice.

He turned away from his watery counterpart and sauntered over to a booth selling fine combs, inlayed in mother-of-pearl with designs of goldfish and lotus blossoms. "Hey, how about combs? Do you want a comb?" he yelled boorishly, picking up one of them and brandishing it like a winning lotto ticket.

"Why would I need a comb? I don't have hair in my normal form," she explained as if talking to a small child. "But you're a whale-thingy, aren't you? Aren't they mammals? I'm pretty sure mammals have hair."

"For your information…" Kyogre began to argue, before pausing, lost in thought. "You know, I have no idea. Ray, am I a mammal?" she asked her learned comrade. "Well, I think to be a mammal, you have to have hair, bear live young, and possess mammary glands."

"Well, we know you don't have hair," Groudon said, following the chain of logic one link at a time. "Ky, can you bear live young?" "I don't think Legendaries of our stature can have kids," she said. Rayquaza breathed a small sigh of relief at this point. He had a hard enough time keeping _two_ Legendaries in check, let alone their wretched spawn.

However, his respite was short-lived when he realized what, logically, Groudon's next question would be. He clutched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. _Please don't say something that stupid,_ he repeated over and over like a mantra in his head. "Ky, do you have mammary glands?"

Despite the hundreds of people in the market, there was sudden silence around the three. Kyogre's face went completely blank, like a computer freezing up, trying to process what he had said. _Please don't cause a scene, please don't cause a scene,_ Rayquaza chanted in his thoughts, despite it obviously not working the last time. Groudon, realizing he may have done something very foolish, began backing away from his blue-haired companion, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Groudon," she said, eerily calm, "if you ever ask that question again, I will bite you in half." "Duly noted," he replied, wiping the sweat that had accumulated on his brow, thankful he had gotten off lightly. All she did was _threaten_ him.

Kyogre, having properly chastised her uncouth foil, returned to her own holiday shopping, stopping at a stall selling watches. With care, she dangled a long, gold chain from her fingers, fixated. "Hey Groudon, want a…" she quickly glanced at the tag, "…watch fob?"

"What the heck is a watch fob?" he asked over his shoulder without really paying attention. The double take was priceless. "Wait, you're my Secret Santa too? Some cosmic force is playing a joke on me," he said, exasperated.

"Yeah, all the cosmic forces we know tend to do that," she joked. "I think a watch fob is one of those chain thingies you put on a pocket watch."

"Why on earth would I want one of those? I don't even own a pocket watch! Or any kind of watch," he said, becoming thoughtful. "Or even pockets, for that matter…"

"Fine, okay, it was a dumb idea," she said, a little defensive at having her idea so thoroughly shot down. "At least _I_ didn't want to get a comb for someone who can't grow hair…"

Rayquaza rolled his eyes in irritation. "Will you two stop your bickering? Ideally, this is the one time of year I shouldn't have to stop you sniping at each other. At the very least, focus on getting your present shopping done." He returned his attention to the kiosk in front of him, selling key chains, t-shirts, and coffee mugs. All of them had had colorful pictures of pokemon on them, including Rayquaza's own serpentine visage. "I really should have some say in this sort of thing," he grumbled.

He turned himself away from the booth selling memorabilia of him to try and find a product he could actually get as a gift. He looked upon the humans bustling through the market, wrapped up in their own yuletide activities, shopping for their own loved ones. One human in particular looked awfully familiar…

"Oh crap," he said involuntarily, his eyes wide with terror as he ducked behind the booth, to the confusion of his companions. "Um, Ray," said Groudon, profoundly weirded out, "why are you hiding?"

"Get down, you idiots," Ray hissed, grabbing the shirt fronts of the other two and dragging them into a crouching position beside him. "Who are we hiding from?" Kyogre asked, irritated at being manhandled and wanting an explanation.

"Well," he said, peeking over the kiosk to point to a young woman looking at snow globes, "Do you see that girl over there?" "Who, the chick with the skirt and the hair done up in two spiky bits?" asked Groudon. "Yep." "Who is she anyway?"

"Latias." At Ray's answer, Ky's eyebrows shot up her forehead like a stage curtain. "Latias? As in 'Dragon of Altomare,' 'dead brother' Latias? How can you tell?"

"What can I say, I fly around a lot, and I see a lot of stuff. When she takes on human form, she always uses that shape for some reason."

"Um, this might be a dumb question, but," Groudon asked, "why don't you want her to know you're here, Ray?" "I'd…rather not say," he said, refusing to make eye contact with Groudon. How someone becomes more evasive when they're already hiding behind something is a mystery, but he pulled it off, nevertheless.

The girl soon grew disinterested in the snow globe stand and walked off to another. Unfortunately for Rayquaza, she was walking to the stand he was hiding behind. Ray whimpered in a rather unmasculine way when he saw her approach. "What are you worried about?" asked Groudon, starting to get tired of crouching for no adequately explained reason. "Latias has never seen you in this body, has she Ray?" "No…" he responded, as if it was the stupidest, least relevant question ever asked. "Then how is she supposed to recognize you?"

This sudden, rather obvious insight had a profound effect on Rayquaza. He stood up quick enough to almost leave the ground, perusing the wares at the stall and trying to act casual. As Latias walked by, he almost sighed in relief. And then she paused.

Ray pretended not to notice, not looking up from the knick-knacks. However, a closer inspection would notice how all his muscles tensed like a rubber band, or the patina of sweat now covering his forehead. As she turned toward him, he knew that somehow, he'd be found out, he'd be revealed, he thought he might scream from the tension.

"Excuse me, you look familiar. Do I know you?" Latias asked politely. "Nope, nope, never seen me before in your life, you must be mistaken," he forced out, his voice about an octave higher than usual. "O…k…" she said slowly, backing away from the stuttering, psychotic-sounding figure, her eyes unfocused in contemplation.

As she walked away, Ray almost melted into a puddle, relieved of the stress of being discovered, a sedate smile on his face. "Um, can Latias speak English in her human form?" Groudon inquired. "No…" Ray said dreamily. "Then won't she find it odd that you responded to her when she talked to you in Pokemon?"

Ray's face fell like a collapsing empire. If this were an anime, he'd have a giant sweat-drop at this point.

* * *

A.N. Hm, why is Rayquaza hiding from Latias? What incredibly inappropriate gifts will Groudion and Kyogre give each other? Read, review, and to all a good night!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Oh, Christmas Tree

* * *

"No way in _Hell!_" shouted Celebi, the fairy of Ilex Forest. She threw her arms to her sides, protecting the mighty pine behind her like a child from a chainsaw-wielding maniac. While the maniac part was (for the most part) debatable, the three figures before her did have a chainsaw.

"You dare defy us? I should strike you down for your impertinence," stormed Zapdos, beak snapping in irritation. Little static sparks twinkled on his canary-yellow form, wings jagged as torn sheet metal. He fidgeted, talon-shaped foot clenching around the handle of the chainsaw he held.

"Arceus, what is with the whole 'strike you down' thing? You know, that's why we never get invited to any parties," berated Moltres, scarlet flames reflecting her exasperation at her sparky counterpart. "Although, Celebi," she said, turning to the fairy with a wicked grin, "Zapdos does have a point. It would be a _shame_ if your forest should burn down by accident because you didn't give us a tree." She preened her wing, especially careful to show off the fire.

The third of the trio, a powder blue canary-looking creature, looked on at her companion's actions with visible distaste. "You're both nuts. Let's just get the tree from somewhere else, there's no need to cause Celebi this much trouble," counseled Articuno. The other two glared at her as if she'd just suggested they all wear pink pajamas and call themselves "Mew."

As Celebi watched the Legendary birds turn their attention away from her and start arguing with each other, her anxiety decayed into confusion like a radioactive isotope. After a while, the birds began to resort to "Yo' Momma" jokes (despite none of them technically having a "Momma"), and Cel actually began to get bored. _Well, are they gonna chop down a tree or not?_ She thought.

The bickering of the great avians was quickly heading into full-on violence. Just as it was going to turn into a three-way cockfight, a large winged shadow fell upon them. "Ahh, it's Batman!" shrieked Zapdos, tucking his head protectively under one wing and shivering. However, what descended to the ground wasn't Batman, unless Bruce Wayne had somehow turned into a large silvery bird-fish-thingy.

"Zapdos, you are very wrong," said Lugia, shaking her head in shame at her charge. "Fine, you aren't Batman, I overreacted," the thunderbird grudgingly admitted, pulling his head out from under his wing. "No, you were wrong to take your head out," Lugia said, wing/flipper whipping out like a striking cobra to deliver a textbook Three Stooges Slap to the spiky lightning Legendary.

"Sorry for any trouble my trio caused you, I swear I can't leave them alone for a minute," she said to Celebi, shooting a withering glance to the three birds. Moltres tried to avoid eye contact with her, Articuno was shuffling his feet like a child called to the principle's office, and Zapdos just rubbed his sore cheek and glared.

"Getting back to business," Lugia said, "you know Arceus needs a Christmas tree for the upcoming party, and Ilex Forest has the best. Now before you say anything," she added hurriedly, seeing the look of terror on Celebi's face, "I must remind you that Christmas is a time of giving, and in the spirit of that, Arceus has not given you a choice in the matter of whether you give us a tree or not."

"Forget it," the tiny psychic spat at the much larger silver leviathan before her. "I'm not giving up one of my precious trees. I only have so many of them, and they take a really long time to grow new ones. I can't wait forever for-"

Celebi was interrupted by a blinding flash of light, like a rip in the fabric of space and time itself. She raised her arm to shield her eyes, as Lugia blinked in surprise. As the light faded, a second Celebi was left floating in its place, holding a large terra cotta pot in her tiny hands. In the pot was a pine sapling.

"Here you go, me," the new Celebi said, handing the sapling to the present Celebi. "Now I don't have to worry about waiting for a new tree to grow! Merry Christmas!" Then, with a little wave, the new Celebi was engulfed in the same blinding light, and was gone as quickly as it came.

For a second, nobody moved, too deeply confused by recent events to react. Slowly, Lugia blinked, and asked the obvious question. "What the heck just happened?"

"I…I think me from the future just gave me a tree to replace the one you want to cut down," Celebi explained hesitantly, trying to figure out the time travel she'd have to do later to avoid a paradox.

"Okay," Lugia said, clearly indicating that she didn't really understand but wasn't up to the task of trying right now. "So, does that mean we can have the tree?" "I…guess so," Cel responded.

"Great! Let's just chop this baby down, fly it over to the Hall of Origin and…" Lugia paused, visibly irritated. "Zapdos? What did you do with my chainsaw?"

* * *

High above Mount Coronet in the Sinnoh region rested the Hall of Origin, the dwelling of Arceus. A delicate crystal stairway led up from the ruins of Spear Pillar led to golden doors, with images from all the world myths and legends rendered in bas relief. Past these doors…

"Come on people! We only have a few hours to get this place up to specs, and if it gets screwed up, it'll be my head," shouted Regigigas, clapping his hands to motivate his workmen.

"Does that mean _we_ won't get punished it gets screwed up?" droned Regirock, holding the bottom of a ridiculously precarious ladder. "Well, Arceus won't punish you, but I certainly will," threatened the Colossal pokemon.

"You know, most people get the Christmas holiday off from work. Are we getting paid overtime for this? Or paid at all, even?" Registeel grumbled, as she stood perched on a precarious ladder, stringing metallic tinsel from the eaves of the Hall of Origin.

"Oh boo hoo, I feel so sorry for you," Regigigas responded sarcastically. "You know, I spend most of every century dormant in Snowpoint Temple, and the only time I get out on a regular basis is to prepare the Hall of Origin for this party, so don't come crying to me because _you_ have to work on Christmas."

"Yeah, yeah," Regice said half-heartedly as he covered the white walls in sparkling frost. If he had lungs, he probably would have sighed.

"What the hell's your problem?" shouted down Shaymin, currently in her Sky Forme, hanging boughs of holly from the arched ceiling. "Well, it's about this girl…" Regice began. "Does this story have anything to do with me?" the flower Legendary rudely interrupted. "No." "Then I don't care." "Then why did you ask?" Regice complained. "Because I forgot for a second that I don't like listening to other people's bitching," she responded matter-of-factly, before returning her attention to her work.

Regigigas groaned. _With these idiots as my workforce, I'll never get this place ready,_ he inwardly lamented. _Oh well, at least there's _one _person here with any competence._

Regigigas lumbered over to the Hall of Origin's newly installed circuit box. Twiddling with the wires was a small grayish-yellow top-like creature, electricity arcing from its body in actinically glowing tendrils. "Rotom, how is the lighting display coming along?"

"I have completed it to your exact specification: Regigigas." The small pseudo-Legendary spoke with the same helpful yet distant tone that you would imagine being used by the Microsoft Word paperclip. "It is ready to be tested, if you would like." Rotom's electrical tentacles wrapped around an extension cord and handed it to Regigigas to hold in his giant hands. He followed the cord along its length with his eyes, seeing it connect to string after string of Christmas lights laboriously strung up across the whole of the Hall. He plugged it in.

Instead of the thousands upon thousands of lights he expected, there was only one brief flash as one of the light bulbs exploded. The shock quickly set the holly on the ceiling on fire, which in turn set Shaymin on fire. Shrieking in pain, she flew through the Hall like a misfired bottle rocket, trailing smoke in her wake. Like (ironically) a heat-seeking missile, she collided with Regice, nearly shattering his icy form. He threw his arms wide, trying to regain his balance from the impact and keep from falling over. Unfortunately, in the suddenness of it all, he forgot to turn off the Ice Beam in his hand he'd been using to decorate the walls.

The beam fired wide, spraying the ground with a molecules-thick sheet of ice. A particularly large, slippery patch was created beneath the feet of Regirock. His club-like feet skittered and flailed wildly, as if he were a drunken tap dancer. "Hold the ladder, you dolt! HOLD THE LADDER!" shouted Registeel as the precarious ladder tilted, well, precariously. With a deceptively slow inevitability, The ladder fell.

Regigigas cringed at the crash, which sounded like an old oil drum full of gravel falling down a flight of stairs. When it was over, he looked upon the chaos that had been made of his work. He turned to Rotom, fire burning in his seven tiny eyes. "Why did that happen!?"

"The lights were not gauged for the outlet's voltage," said the tech Legendary, calm and helpful as ever.

"If you knew the lights weren't made for that voltage, _why did you use them?" _Regigigas growled, filled with rage that he was even in a situation where that question had to be asked.

"I built the lighting system to _your _exact specifications. Why? Did you not want the lights to short out?" asked Rotom, genuinely concerned it might have misread Regigigas' intentions.

The Colossus smacked himself in the face. "I am so screwed."

* * *

A.N. Well...yeah. Bit of a gap between updates, huh? Oh well, that's why there are twelve days of Christmas! Sorry for any decrease in quality this chapter, I kinda had to rush it to get ti in before Christmas eve, and I just barely made it as it is. Anyway, R&R!


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